You're Holy (And You Forgot) - Lyrics

Click to Listen to: You're Holy (And You Forgot) - Lyrics
Loui Crow

📖 About the Song:

This is a resurrection chant.

For the ones who disappeared to stay loved. For the ones who became small so no one would leave. For the ones who tried being good instead of being whole.
You were never broken. You were buried. And this song is a shovel.

“You’re Holy (And You Forgot)” is a body-based affirmation track disguised as a spell. A soft blade. A map made of breath. It walks you back to yourself through nervous system truth, lyrical fire, and real-time reclamation. It doesn’t ask. It reminds.

For every part of you still pretending you're too much, too loud, too messy—this is your mirror.
Say it back. You’re holy.

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🎤 Full Lyrics: You’re Holy (And You Forgot)

[Intro]
You forgot, didn’t you?
How soft you were when you were sure.
How loud your yes used to sound.
How holy it felt
just to take up space.

[Verse 1 – The Collapse]
You bent yourself backwards
to be half of a maybe.
You ghosted your needs
so someone else could feel brave.
You learned to smile with your shoulders.
You learned to cry without sound.
You thought healing meant shrinking—
but look where that got you now.
You forgot.
So I’ll remind you:
Your body is a prayer that never needed fixing.
Your light wasn’t lost—
you just stopped listening.

[Hook]
You’re holy—
and you forgot.
You shrank yourself down
just to fit what you’re not.
You’re magic—
wrapped in a thought.
Now say it like you mean it—
say it like you caught it.
You’re holy.
Say it back.
You don’t need to break
just to bounce back.
You’re holy.
Even here.
Even shaking.
Even scared.
Even weird.

[Verse 2 – The Mirror]
You’ve been looking for love
like it’s hiding in someone else’s mouth.
But baby—
your name is carved in your own breath.
That’s the first vow.
Your heartbeat is proof.
Your pulse is a map.
You never needed their hands
to give you your back.
This is not a glow-up.
This is a return.
This is calling your spirit
back from the burn.

[Bridge]
Who do you love first? — Me.
What do you release? — Pity.
What do you carry? — Power.
What do you trust? — This hour.

[Hook]
You’re holy—
and you forgot.
You shrank yourself down
just to fit what you’re not.
You’re magic—
wrapped in a thought.
Now say it like you mean it—
say it like you caught it.
You’re holy.
Say it back.
You don’t need to break
just to bounce back.
You’re holy.
Even here.
Even shaking.
Even scared.
Even weird.

[Verse 3 – The Return]
No one gets to name you
but the voice inside your gut.
And even when it shakes?
It still cuts.
You don’t need to be softer.
You don’t need to be cool.
You need to be you—
and that breaks every rule.
So come back.
To your skin.
To your spine.
To the part of you that still says:
“I’m mine.”

[Final Hook]
You’re holy.
Say it slow.
Say it like the world
already knows.
You’re holy.
Say it true.
You don’t need to beg
to believe in you.
You’re holy.
Even here.
Even messy.
Even wild.
Even clear.

[Outro]
If you ever forget again,
come back here.
Play this.
And remember:
You were never broken.
Just buried.
You’re holy.
And you forgot.
But now you don’t.
So be it.


💔 What pain or struggle is this blog addressing?
This song speaks to the pain of self-erasure—how trauma, people-pleasing, and false narratives convince us that we must shrink to be safe, and disappear to be loved. It’s for the person searching for songs that don’t just hype them up—but call them home. For the nervous system that flinches at kindness. For the heart that’s tired of begging.

By the end, you remember:
You are not broken. You are buried.
And every breath is a shovel.

Loui Crow

I make music, practice mirror work, sometimes I do somatic rage fits, and small forms of magick that help me stay present and kind while things change.

I write songs for myself, my inner child, and for the woman I am becoming.
I work through old patterns, grief, and survival habits as I notice them loosening.

Sometimes I write as the Crow — that's my ideal self. Direct, unattached, protective, grounded in something older than my fear. Other voices come through too. The snake. The spider. The fly. The ghosts are the false selves I created to survive. I write as all of them, for my own self-hypnosis — unpacking who I've been so that my son can fill his days with joy and I can stop being such a reactive parent. I'm in the middle of it all. I just keep showing up.

I use Suno for vocals and instrumentals — the vocals are seeded from my own voice. I'm a disabled veteran and a stay-at-home mom.

Over the last year, I climbed an emotional ladder I didn't know I was on. Many of my earlier releases were the scream — my depression, anger, insecurity.

The last album that came out of that climb is called "Mirror, Mirror off the Wall." It starts with depression and ends with gratitude.

Much of what lives here carries the influence of Louise Hay and Abraham Hicks, especially the idea that my body listens to my thoughts — and that where I place my attention, my life follows.

I leave breadcrumbs in case anyone resonates.

Take what feeds you.
Leave the rest for the birds.

I am molting.
You are welcome here.

https://louicrow.com
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